


Subconscious Mantra

by cherryandmapletrees



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Bughead first meeting after seven years, F/M, Jughead Jones Being an Idiot, Jughead being an angst master again, Mentions of alcoholism, Past Bughead, Post-Time Skip, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29402988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryandmapletrees/pseuds/cherryandmapletrees
Summary: Jughead Jones was not in love with Betty Cooper. Jughead Jones was definitely not in love with Betty Cooper.That’s what he’s been telling himself for the past seven years. It was his subconscious mantra playing on repeat under every thought he’d had in the last seven years.He didn’t love her.He couldn’t.He wouldn’t.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	Subconscious Mantra

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello hello! It's been a while since I've written anything, but here we are! I got a little inspiration and this little oneshot appeared. Maybe we'll see Betty's POV eventually.
> 
> As always, thanks to my dear friend Cyd (bluevelvetvideo) for being my wonderful beta and for creating the graphic for this fic on Tumblr
> 
> Feel free to visit me on my Tumblr ratherdieasthedevil (going through a Daredevil phase at the moment)
> 
> Enjoy! ~ Harper

Jughead Jones was not in love with Betty Cooper. Jughead Jones was definitely  _ not _ in love with Betty Cooper.

As soon as he saw her leave with her mother, on her way to take her rightful place as a Yale student, he hadn’t been in love with her anymore. That his love for her had died the night she had confessed.

That’s what he’s been telling himself for the past seven years. It was his subconscious mantra playing on repeat under every thought he’d had in the last seven years.

In trying to make even himself believe that lie, he had finally come to a place where he understood his father. In between the endless hours of bleeding his emotions dry, turning them into words on pages and the girlfriends who looked at him and decided they could fix him, the only thing he found to numb himself, to ignore the bittersweet memories of Betty, was the alcohol.

So had begun a seven year lie, perpetuated from the moment he woke up in the morning to the moment he fell asleep at night. In his dreams though, he would never, could never believe it.

Jughead Jones was not in love with Betty Cooper.

It was the phone call from Archie Andrews that had finally snapped him out of his consistent seven year spiral, that had finally made him look around and notice that at some point on the downward descent, his life, his world, had fallen down around him and he hadn’t even noticed.

The burning anger he felt when he first saw his old friend’s name on his screen quickly faded into a painful ache deep in his chest. For all his brooding and adamant statements that he didn’t care, Jughead knew some part of himself would always care about his old friends and his old home, his old self.

Somehow Archie knew that because his call was brief and to the point. Riverdale was a dying town, and he wanted to save it with Jughead’s help. Oh, and Pop Tate was retiring. Archie still knew exactly which buttons to press, he always had. 

Funny, he’d spent seven years claiming to everyone who would listen that he hated Riverdale and would never ever go back - not after the first year when no one showed up - and in the end all it took was a “Riverdale is dying” from Archibald Andrews’ lips and he was packing a bag, feeling a hole open in his chest.

It wasn’t until he was already on a bus to his hometown that he realized something. Archie would have called everyone, not just him. That meant Veronica, and that meant…

Jughead Jones was not in love with Betty Cooper.

He continued the mantra in his head, feeling the gaping, empty feeling in his chest widen with every mile, every inch, that closed between him and that wicked little town.

He didn’t love her.

He couldn’t.

He  _ wouldn’t _ .

His eyes closed of their own accord as soon as he saw the familiar Town With Pep sign, his head leaning against the cold glass window. He almost missed the gaping hole in the sign, making the sign read Town With... He didn’t want to see how bad it had gotten. Not yet. He didn’t think he’d be able to bear it.

Even after all this time, his body remembered the town. He knew exactly when the bus reached the stop nearest Pop’s without opening his eyes, and he let his muscle memory take over.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he stepped off the bus and into the parking lot, his gaze drawn directly to the familiar neon of the Chocklit Shop’s sign. Pop’s had always been a second home to him, and everything in his body relaxed.

He walked inside slowly, his head naturally turning to look around the restaurant for anyone or anything familiar. He spotted a head of dark hair, and a moment later, he was met with a pair of dark eyes he hadn’t seen in years. 

Veronica Lodge. Her hand lifted in a greeting, and she smiled slightly, beckoning him over. He did, because everyone always had done what Veronica asked.

They made polite small talk, her congratulating him on his novel, him congratulating her on her wedding. It had been a huge, black tie event, he’d seen it in the tabloids. He hadn't gone, too afraid of seeing Betty there, and he started to apologize to Veronica for it, but she shook her head and waved his apology away.

Her eyes lifted to the door when the bell sounded, and when her whole body stiffened, he tensed in response, his brain already recognizing who had just walked in.

Everything in his mind screamed at him to stay still, to act nonchalant and unbothered. His heart ordered him to turn around and just look, and for once he ignored his mind.

The second he caught sight of her, hair down instead of in its old tight ponytail, he knew.

He’d been an idiot to think it all these years, to try to convince himself of something he knew wasn’t true.

Jughead Jones was still in love with Betty Cooper, and he always would be.

Time seemed to slow down as she walked toward the booth, and he took the opportunity to look at her. On the surface, she seemed to be doing just fine. She wore a sweater and jeans that complimented her body, and her hair was in loose, gentle waves. She wore immaculate makeup, and her shoes were even polished.

It was when he looked closer at her that he noticed something was wrong. Her sweater was frayed at the cuffs, like she’d been picking at it nervously. Her shoes were  _ too  _ shiny, like she’d spent several hours scrubbing at them until they were just perfect.

And her eyes…

Those beautiful green eyes he had spent so long staring at, that he saw in his dreams when his guard dropped and he could admit he still loved her, the reason he always looked at the color of a girl’s eyes before they spent any time together to make sure they weren’t  _ her  _ color. They had always been filled with so much light and warmth, so much inquisitive energy.

Now they were empty and quiet, haunted in a way he’d hoped they’d never be, in a way he knew his own were.

He’d seen the look of it before, in the eyes of Serpents who had gotten too close to losing a fight with the Ghoulies or Riverdale students who almost hadn’t survived to graduation. 

Betty Cooper had stared death in the face as a teen. He didn’t know what happened yet, but he knew that whatever it was, part of her hadn’t made it out alive. Something had happened to her again as an adult, something bad, and he felt his heart crack.

She reached their table and paused, hesitant.

“Veronica. It’s good to see you.”

He barely even heard Ronnie’s response, because Betty’s eyes had turned to him, and he was struck once again with a sense of the hurt and anguish that she held inside her.

“Jughead.”

His name in her voice, the soft way she said it, the way her eyes warmed the slightest bit before going flat again. It was a bittersweet poison working its way through his veins, and he knew that for her, he would let it kill him. He would never tell her, would let her and everyone else think that he didn’t love her anymore, but he knew in his soul that he would love Betty Cooper until the day he died.

“Betty.”

She asked to sit next to him, and he nodded, stood up, and let her take her usual seat on the inside of their booth. She sat, and as the familiar smell of lavender and vanilla settled over him as he slid back into the booth, he finally let himself think the truth that he’d been hiding from even himself.

_ Jughead Jones would always love Betty Cooper. _


End file.
